


The Walls Come Tumbling Down

by mariothellama



Series: The Walls of Dortmund Trilogy [2]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: 17th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Established Relationship, Family, Historical Accuracy, M/M, Making Love, Thirty Years War, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-11-21 17:31:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18145256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/pseuds/mariothellama
Summary: The continuation and conclusion of 'The Walls of Dortmund'.





	1. Prologue: July 1632

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blue_Night](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Walls of Dortmund](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272225) by [mariothellama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/pseuds/mariothellama). 



> My dearest Blue_Night,
> 
> I promised you this special fic sometime and this seemed like the perfect occasion. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!! I hope that you have a wonderful, amazing day full of joy and happiness (and nothing else!)

Marco sat upright on Bolt's back, trying not to let his mount sense his rage, helplessness, even the fear gnawing at him. But of course Bolt knew exactly how his master was feeling, the magnificent black stallion pawing angrily at the ground.

The day Marco had dreaded for so long had finally come to pass. The year 1632 had dawned full of hope for him, Mario and Erik. The three of them were finally together properly, having found a way for Marco to have the relationship he so longed for, both with the man he had loved since childhood and the man who had shown him who he truly was. And Erik and Mario had come to love each other truly and deeply. At first they were bonded together by their experiences of war, by their love for Marco and by Erik’s understanding for what Mario had been through. But their love had blossomed here, safe behind the strong walls of the city, making Marco’s heart soar to see them young, happy and somehow innocent together.

Slowly but surely, their love and care was healing Mario of the mental wounds from his long months as a prisoner of war and the abuse he had suffered. But a dark shadow hovered over them and the city Marco loved, his home that he had sworn to be loyal to and defend with his last breath. All that was so much harder now, now that he had more to lose than ever before. Sometimes he felt guilty, guilty that he had so much when so many had lost everything. His home. His family. His beloved niece and nephew. His friends. The men he loved. Almost as if he deserved to be punished for his happiness in the midst of so much pain and suffering.

They’d pushed all that to the back of their minds during the spring of 1632. They had focused on training the men – the boys really – who would defend the city in its hour of need. They patrolled the walls of Dortmund, looking for weak points, trying to spot the city’s vulnerability before the enemy did. They spent the evenings at their usual table in the back room of _zum goldenen Löwen_ in the Ostenhellweg, enjoying the camaraderie of their friends.

Matthias and Christina were expecting their first child. Matthias had wanted to send Christina to Cologne where she would be safe. So many people had already made that journey, fleeing the city while the roads were still open. But, not really to anyone’s surprise, she had refused to leave her husband’s side, insisting that their child would be born here in the city with Matthias to welcome him or her into the family.

At the end of every day, the three of them went home to the townhouse on the Westenhellweg that was home to Marco’s family. Climbing the wooden stairs to the second floor, they took refuge in Marco’s great bed. Curling up together under the canopy of that sumptuous, elaborately carved bed, they pulled the heavy black and gold curtains closed, shutting out the cruelty of the world outside, losing themselves in their private world where there was only love. Some nights they made love, lighting up the darkness with the fire of their passion; on other nights the three of them just wound themselves into a tight ball of tangled limbs, seeking warmth and comfort.

But the illusion of a world of peace and love faded away as the morning sun found its way through the cracks in the shutters with the dawning of each new day. They’d waited eagerly and fearfully for the news, needing and dreading to hear what was happening outside the walls of their beloved city. The Bavarian General Gottfried Heinrich zu Pappenheim, whose troops had sacked the city of Magdeburg, burning it to cinders and butchering its people, was on the march west along the King’s Highway through Westphalia, the road that ran straight through their home.

Dortmund was neutral in the war between the Holy Roman Emperor and his opponents. But that would not save them when an army came knocking at the gate. Only money could save them. And money was what they longer had. The deep furrows on the brow of Marco’s father confirmed that. The long years of war had destroyed once prosperous city’s trade. Paying off potential besiegers had further emptied their coffers. And now there was nothing left to buy off the greatest threat the city had faced to date.

They’d waited nervously as von Pappenheim’s army marched west, unable to do anything more than just wait. Wait, watch and pray. City after city opened their gates to the approaching troops without hesitation. To do otherwise was to risk siege, sack and ultimate destruction. But surrender was not without its own risks, especially for a city such as Dortmund. As spring turned to summer, the approaching army drew closer. Paderborn surrendered to the army outside its gates. Then Soest. They were next.

It had been a matter of days before the sentries on the watchtowers reported seeing the dust thrown up by the approaching army in the July heat. Marco’s father had hurried to the Rathaus with the other civic leaders. Marco had set about his duties as captain of the city guard, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Mario and Erik worked quietly alongside him, nothing needing to be said.

They lacked the funds to pay off the Bavarian general and his troops. Dortmund was a rich prize after all. Nor did they surrender straight away. And so it began. With the church bells ringing the prearranged alarm signal, turning what were usually a joyous peels of celebration into harbingers of doom.

Marco would never forget that day, reliving it in his mind until the end of his days. The city was under attack. Houses were burning. Marco was sticky with sweat, his blond hair darkened with soot, his lungs burning as he tried to stay calm, taking command of the defence of his city, ordering troops to the walls, making sure that the well-drilled firefighting operation could proceed unhindered. Fire could wreak havoc in a tightly populated, enclosed urban space, especially at the height of summer when it had not rained for days and the house timbers were bone dry.

The blood had run cold in his veins when a messenger had come to tell them that Matthias’s house was on fire. Christina! The baby! But he didn’t have time to think about it, simply ordering Matthias to go and take care of his family. And then he’d gone back to his duties.

They managed to hold out. The city had not been captured or destroyed. What they most feared had not yet come to pass. But that day had shown them that trying to withstand the siege was too great a risk to run. And so the decision had been taken to open the gates in the wall they had hoped would keep them safe.

Marco sat upright on Bolt’s back, every inch the proud commander even though he felt sick inside. He didn’t turn round to see Erik behind him, but he knew that he was there, holding his own mount steady in silent support. And Mario was there too, he could sense his presence. Whatever happened today, the three of them had survived so much already and would live to see another day.

Careful to keep his voice level and authoritative, he gave the order he had hoped and prayed never to have to issue: ‘Open the gate!’


	2. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dearest Blue_Night,
> 
> I'm so happy that you like your birthday fic. I had been going to deal with this in a brief flashback before the ... um ... climax of this story, but thought that you might not object if I turn it into a mini chapter!

The events of that day were engraved into Marco’s memory forever. The huge eastern gate in the city wall that had protected them for so long had swung slowly open. Bolt’s hooves were loud against the cobbles, his mount well-trained but clearly uneasy. Behind him, he could hear that his men were every bit as unsettled. He just had to hope that Mario could keep them in order. The last thing they needed today was one of the younger men losing control and causing trouble. Lives were at risk. The future of their city hung in the balance. But Marco couldn’t spare a thought for that now, focused on what lay before him, on the enemy about to march through the gate.

He urged Bolt forward, moving into position behind the gate in the high wall, Erik following him. General von Pappenheim had not come in person to take the surrender, but sent one of his commanders, an officer from the East. He was about the same age as Marco, with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes, strongly built and muscular, sitting upright on his horse with a proud, aristocratic bearing.

Marco wanted to hate this man, but he couldn’t. He was only doing his duty, just like he was. In another world he might even have found him attractive. And the soft, almost shy smile the Imperial commander gave him once they had both dismounted and were facing one another was disarming.

They walked side by side along to Ostenhellweg to the city hall where the council were waiting for them, conversing politely as if they were just out for a stroll, oblivious to the tension all around them. The blue-eyed commander spoke good German, his accent betraying his roots. Maybe they could even have been friends if things were different, if he hadn’t been a threat to Marco’s beloved home?

As captain of the city guard, Marco was allowed inside the great council chamber to hear the terms of the negotiations. His heart sank within him as he heard how much money was being demanded as the price of preventing the city from being burnt to the ground. 50,000 Imperial dollars! He tried to read the expression on his father’s face, desperate to work out if they even had that much money left in the city’s coffers. But his father and the other councilors remained impassive, negotiating hard with the enemy.

After what felt like hours, a deal was reached. The price of their survival had been negotiated down to 17,000 Imperial dollars. As he would later learn from his father, even that sum was a financial drain on Dortmund’s finances. But the city he loved would not be reduced to ashes, although it would be occupied by Imperial troops.

The six months that followed were hard. The role of the city guard had changed. Marco and his men were no longer primarily responsible for the external defence of the city, but for keeping the peace in a city under occupation. Tempers flared on a regular basis. There were tavern brawls between the inhabitants and the Imperial troops. Some of Marco’s own men had to be locked up for responding to taunting and humiliation. Marco himself lost count of the number of times he had had to calm his own fury, the veins on his forehead pulsing, his hand clenching into a fist, until he got himself under control and walked away.

Somehow the city managed to raise enough money to pay the occupying force to leave, forcing them further into debt. But that wasn’t the end of their suffering.

The occupation by von Pappenheim’s troops had ended the flimsy façade of Dortmund’s neutrality in this vicious, pointless, destructive war. Some of the city council decided to join forces with those opposing the Emperor. Marco’s father and several of his colleagues resigned from the council in protest. And thus the city was occupied again, this time by the other side, for long year after long year.

Marco was tired. Tired of war. Tired of destruction. Tired of death. Tired of the constant threat to his beloved city. Worn down by his responsibilities. Seeing no way out of their situation except for the end of this war somewhere faraway outside the walls of the city.

But he kept going. He kept going through the terrible months when plague ravaged the city and took so many lives. He kept going when the city was once again besieged by Imperial troops, now a legitimate military target. He kept going when the city was once more occupied by forces loyal to the Emperor, who stripped it of food, money and weapons.

He kept going because this was his city. He had been born and raised here. His love for his city and its people was the blood in his veins and the air in his lungs. He was their captain and he would never desert them, no matter what happened.

And so he found himself walking through the streets of his city on a late spring day, the air warm with the promise of summer. It was his 35th birthday. And the eighth anniversary of the day he had first met a young soldier and lost his heart to him.

So much had changed since that day eight years ago when he had brought Erik home to his family’s home on the Westenhellweg. So many houses lay ruined and uninhabitable along the streets of this once thriving and prosperous city. Many others were empty, their owners having fled the city. He passed the house where Sven had lived before fleeing in the direction of Cologne with his wife and their son

And he himself was not heading in the direction of the town house on the Westenhellweg where he had been born and lived for the first thirty years of his life, but walking eastwards, in the direction of the gate where he had given the order that had changed the life of his city forever.


	3. Climax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dearest Blue_Night,
> 
> Here it is, the end of your story, and the end of Marco, Erik and Mario's story. It's kind of bittersweet finally saying goodbye to them, to the first characters I ever created, but I hope that you like the end of your story. This is how I always knew that they would end up. Thank you so much for requesting the conclusion of their story and I'm so happy that I was able to write this for your birthday fic.

He was heading towards an imposing townhouse on the Ostenhellweg, opposite the Rheinoldikirche where Matthias and Christina had been married all those years ago. His soldier’s instincts automatically quickened when he saw that the door was already open, but relaxed when two small figures came running across the square towards him with loud cries of ‘Uncle Marco is home!’ Matthias followed them, apologising as he greeted him.

‘Sorry for the welcoming committee. They were so excited at the thought of your birthday feast that they were too excited to wait inside.’

‘No harm done. I’m as happy to see them,’ Marco assured his friend as he swung little Katharina up into his arms. Johannes was too big to carry by now, so he ruffled his hair before taking his hand and following him into the house.

The atmosphere inside was warm and homely. The wooden furniture was polished and gleaming. The air smelled enticingly of cooking. Johannes tugged Marco impatiently into the kitchen where the lamps were already burning, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

He hugged Christina, who was busy cooking, before turning his attention to her two helpers for the evening. There was a smudge of flour on Mario’s nose and Erik’s cheeks were flushed even pinker than usual.

‘Everything is nearly ready. Why don’t you all go and sit down and have a beer? You’ve earned it after a hard day’s work,’ suggested Christina.

Erik and Mario started to argue, but she insisted. Soon they were all sitting round the big, wooden kitchen table, sharing tales of their day. Katharina was sitting on Marco’s knee, her eyes drooping slightly but determined to stay awake and enjoy all the fun. She had just turned five and this was the first time she’d been allowed to stay up this late.

Sometimes Marco had to shake himself to make sure that this was all real and that he wasn’t dreaming. Amidst the darkness and dread of war, alongside so much pain and suffering, he had found true happiness and the family he had believed he would never have.

It had all been his parents’ idea. This house had originally belonged to them. It had survived the partial destruction of the city but lain empty for a year since the family who had rented it had fled to Cologne.

His father had presented it as a rationale decision. Leaving the property vacant ran the risk of it being damaged or looted. Matthias, Christina and the baby were living with Matthias’ parents after their own house had been rendered uninhabitable by the fire. So it made perfect sense to transfer ownership of the property to Marco and for him, Erik and Mario to move in along with Matthias and Christina. That way the house would be taken care of. Christina could be mistress of her own household. She and the baby would be perfectly safe living with not one but four members of the city guard. And the five-story house was more than big enough for everyone to have their own bedroom, in the eyes of the outside world at least.

There had been tears in Marco’s eyes as he thanked his parents. They had not only given him his independence, but done so in a way that ensured he, Mario and Erik could be together without arousing any suspicion or anyone questioning their living arrangements. That was one of the paradoxes of this terrible war. It had ended the life Marco had been brought up to believe he would lead, while allowing him to live the life he really wanted.

And so this house had been their home for six years now. A happy home full of love and joy despite the chaos outside. Katharina had been born here, completing their family.

Food was in short supply in the city but Christina had worked wonders with what they had, conjuring up a birthday feast to remember. There was a glistening golden pie in the centre of the table, steaming hot and stuffed with all manner of good things. The little ones’ eyes were huge with delight at the sight. And she had used the last of the stored apples to make a cake, the source of the flour that had besmirched Mario’s face.

They ate until they were full, lingering long round the table over their glasses of wine. Marco’s father had sent two bottles from his precious store as a birthday gift. The talk was of the past, of their shared lives, but also of a future they were daring to dream of again. Christina was expecting another baby, an unexpected but happy addition to their family.

The little ones were half asleep by the time they’d finished talking, but still found enough energy to clamour for Uncle Marco to put them to bed. And of course he agreed. After making sure that they had washed for the night and listening to them saying their prayers, he tucked them into bed. And then it was time for a story, for another chapter in the tale he was weaving for them about the adventures of Thunderbolt. Erik had even carved a series of wooden figures for him to illustrate the increasingly fantastic exploits of his stallion.

He kept on talking, his voice becoming softer and softer until he was quite sure that both of the children were fast asleep. Erik and Mario were waiting for him, but this time was precious to him as well.

Once the room was quiet except for the quiet, snuffling noises the sleeping children were making, Marco crept out, careful not to wake them, making his way up the oak-carved staircase to the floor above. He pushed the door open to see Mario and Erik curled up on the bed together, kissing.

‘I see you started without me!’ Marco smiled at them. Witnessing the love between Mario and Erik was one of the best gifts he could have received.

‘Not completely. We’re still fully dressed.’ Erik winked at him cheekily. ‘But we can soon change that!’

Their skin gleamed in the light of the two flickering candelabras that illuminated the room as they undressed, taking their time, enjoying the sight of one another’s bodies being revealed. Marco had never forgotten the first time Erik had stripped for him, the first time he’d properly seen another man naked before him. The sight before him now was as glorious as that first time, Mario joining them making it complete.

The water in the wash stand was still warm and the three of them washed carefully, cleansing themselves in anticipation of the rest of their evening together. Marco couldn’t help licking his lips at the sight of drops of water running down Erik’s beautiful skin, triggering another memory carefully stored away of the first time he’d seen Erik washing.

Clean and dry, they climbed into the huge bed that was big enough to hold all three of them comfortably. The linens had been freshly changed and smelled faintly of lavender, the pillows were plump and welcoming. Marco ran his fingers over the carved initials on the headboard, reading the secret known to only a few.

That had been another gift from his parents. They had insisted that he take the great bed from his room in the family home with him. As his father had said, that was only fitting now he was founding a household of his own. But he hadn’t expected what he saw when he walked into his new sleeping chamber for the first time. He had expected that the space on the carved headboard that had been left blank for the intertwined initials of him and his chosen bride would remain forever empty. But now there was an elaborate pattern, one which – if one looked very closely and knew exactly what to look for – revealed an ‘M’ and an ‘E’ and a second ‘M’, carved in oak to last an age. It had been Mario’s father who had designed the pattern they learned later, and Marco’s father had arranged for a specialist carver to undertake the work in secret. That had meant so much to Marco, his father’s silent way of saying that he respected and understood the life his only son was building for himself.

He lay back on the pillows, sinking gratefully into their softness. Mario and Erik crawled down the bed to him, a predatory look in their eye.

‘It’s your birthday. You deserve to relax. Let us indulge you.’ Marco could have sworn that Mario almost purred as he spoke. Mario had grown and matured beyond recognition these past few years, safely at home in Dortmund once more, secure in Marco and Erik’s love for him. They had given him the time and the space he needed, letting him explore and discover his sexuality, allowing him to experience how wonderful it could be being with two men who loved and cherished him. And out of this had come a Mario who could still surprise him with his passion and sensuality.

So he relaxed into the pillows, letting his lovers indulge him. Their lips were warm and soft as they kissed down his torso, licking a wet trail over his skin, pausing to suck at his flesh. He’d been half aroused since they’d started undressing and Erik and Mario’s kisses soon had him standing hard and proud.

Their lips moved lower and lower, kissing over the still flat and heavily muscled plane of his stomach, teeth nipping at his sharp hipbones. He was aching with need by now, sticky drops of fluid running down the length of his arousal, but Mario and Erik were clearly determine to take their time and enjoy themselves.

Thrills of pleasure ran through him as hot breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of his groin. A soft moan escaped his lips and his thighs instinctively fell open, giving them better access. He felt like he was floating on a cloud of bliss as pair of wet, agile tongues licked everywhere they could reach: along his sensitive inner thighs, the incredibly responsive spot behind his balls, up his aching length, massaging him with their tongues. Their soft hair tickled his thighs and he glanced down for a moment to appreciate the sight of two heads of hair - one light brown, one dark - nestled between his spread legs.

He knew that it would be Erik who took him into the deliciousness wet warmth of his mouth, sucking at him, his tongue swirling over the engorged head of Marco’s cock. Mario’s tongue lapping at him between his thighs intensified the force of his release that made his toes curl and his back arch up off the bed as he pumped his seed into Erik’s willing mouth.

He was too blissed-out to move afterwards, luxuriating in the aftermath of his climax, Erik and Mario snuggled up on either side of him. As perfect as this felt, he couldn’t ignore the signs of their need jutting hard and wet against him for too long.

‘You need to … ’ he murmured. ‘I need you to … ’

He found the energy to turn on his side to watch as Erik carefully and slowly prepared Mario, taking such care of him despite the fact that their arousal must have been painful by now. He had indeed needed this. As blissful as both of them pleasuring him had been, he would never tire of watching how beautiful Erik and Mario were making love to each other. His heart ached at how perfectly Mario gave himself to Erik, with such love and trust, fingers clutching at Erik’s back. They were truly beautiful together, strong, powerful bodies moving together in a tangle of sweating, panting, naked limbs. He had the perfect vantage point to watch their faces contort in ecstasy before Erik collapsed on top of Mario.

Marco gave them a moment before fetching a cloth to clean them up before settling down for the night. He slept in the middle that night, with Erik’s arms round him and Mario cuddled up against his chest. He lay awake for as long as he could, enjoying the moment, listening to the gentle breathing of the men he loved. It had been a perfect birthday. There was nothing more he could wish for in his life. And he was looking forward to the year that lay ahead.


End file.
